


"Anxiety Infestation"

by CalSoliTsiren



Series: Tales from St. Petersburg [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Team Russia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:18:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9853382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalSoliTsiren/pseuds/CalSoliTsiren
Summary: He hasn't been in St. Petersburg for 12 hours yet, but the anxiety is already creeping in...





	

The bugs were crawling over the inside of his skull again.

They weren't literal bugs, of course, but it was the best description he could find for the anxiety that swept over him like a wave, a swarm of unbidden thoughts crawling through his skull. Sometimes he could feel it in the follicles of his hair as they stood on end, tingling uncomfortably, making him itchy and restless. 

And it wasn't easy to combat them. Throwing himself into activity usually worked to keep them at bay-- it never stopped, not really, but sometimes he could quiet the nagging doubts and insecurities that constantly barraged him. At home, he would go to the rink and practice until the thought loop subsided. But he was miles away from home, in another country where he couldn't speak the language or even begin to decipher the road signs. He didn't have open access to the rink or a gym. And he was completely at the mercy of a man who wasn't even here at the moment. He'd been left alone with nothing but the thought loop to keep him company.

_Maybe I shouldn't have come here maybe I should have just retired I’ll never be better than I was in the Grand Prix Final and I was still beaten by a 15 year old kid what was I thinking staying in this sport someone is going to realize soon that I'm unstable and crazy and ask me what was I thinking and then I'll have to admit that I wasn't thinking at all…_

The apartment door opened with a jingle of keys, and a clatter of claws skittered across the parquet floor, growing increasingly louder until a cold nose hit him in the middle of the forehead, followed by a warm tongue.

“Yuri?” Victor’s voice was still by the coat rack chair, just inside the door, but when he received no reply, he followed Makkachin’s path down the hallway. Yuri could feel the vibrations in the floorboards as he approached, and he could tell when he stopped in the doorway. “Ah, Yuri,” he said softly. “I knew we should have taken you with us.”

Yuri just sighed. He didn't want to pick up his head from the floor; lying like this, clutching his hair tightly in his hands, he felt like he could hold the bugs still, keep them from scurrying around.

Victor crouched in front of him. “What can I do?” he asked. “Can I…? I mean, do you want …?” He spread his arms wide, in a gesture Yuri was only too familiar with, but for once, Yuri bristled; it was bad enough to be seen in such a low moment. Clinging to Victor like a sobbing child would be much worse. “No, I don't want-- I just need--”

“Okay,” said Victor. “Okay.” 

Silence settled over them for a couple of moments. “...was it a mistake to come here, Victor?”

He felt a soft ‘thump’ as Victor sat down on the floor beside his head. “Well, that depends,” he said. “Are you happy to be here?”

“...I don't know,” Yuri said honestly. “At least, not yet.”

There was a moment of silence. “Are you happy to see _me_ , at least?” Victor asked.

“Well, of course,” Yuri said.

“And are you upset with me, that this is where I need to be right now?”

At this, Yuri lifted his head and looked at Victor. “Not at all! I totally understand!”

“Well then,” Victor said with a smile. “No hard feelings, and no mistakes so far. Just a lot of exhausting travel, a long-distance move, probably some jet lag, and one restless, relentless mind.” Resting a hand gently on Yuri’s hair, he said, “I'd take you to the rink, but a KHL team has the ice for practice for the next two hours.”

“Ah,” said Yuri. It had been like that in Detroit as well.

“And I can't have you nap until then,” Victor said, thinking out loud. “That would never work. So…” he tapped his lips thoughtfully. “Either we can watch a movie, or attempt to make cookies.”

Yuri lay there on the floor and pondered that. “...attempt?”

“They never turn out right,” Victor said cheerfully. “I have no idea why.”

The idea of Victor attempting to bake-- and failing-- was entertaining enough to derail Yuri’s looping thought train, however briefly. “I can cook okay,” he said slowly, “but I don't have much experience baking. I don't know how much help I will be.”

“Fine!” Victor exclaimed, getting to his feet. “You can help me botch the cookies, and then we’ll call the bakery and order something much better.” And he offered Yuri a hand to help him up.

Yuri smiled. It sounded like a very Victor sort of plan. He hadn't had enough of that in his life over the last eight weeks. “All right,” he said, pushing himself up and taking the proffered hand. There was still a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, the sense that there was still something to be afraid of, something he’d forgotten that would pile itself on him like an avalanche. But Victor had hold of his hand, and he was a force of nature as powerful as a gale force wind-- and much more interesting to Yuri than an avalanche of insecurity.

Half an hour later, Yuri’s sides hurt from laughing, and most of the surfaces in the kitchen were covered in flour-- other baking ingredients too, but the flour was the most pervasive. The front of Victor’s shirt was coated in it, and when Yuri pointed this out to him, he laughed and said Yuri’s hair was full of it. Yuri covered his eyes with his hands. “This shouldn’t be so difficult!” he said, laughing.

“That’s what I keep saying!” Victor exclaimed. “So, is it time to call the bakery and be done with it?”

Yuri rubbed his eyes wearily. “Normally I would say, ‘We’ve come this far, we will not concede defeat!’” he declared. “However, today I’m spent. We could even wait and go to the bakery tomorrow, and that would be fine with me.”

Victor smiled at him. “Okay,” he said. Then he held his arms open again, stepping just a little bit closer, and this time Yuri welcomed the embrace. “I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you.”

Yuri’s heart fluttered a bit at those words. “Even when I’m an emotional mess who thinks too much?”

“Of course,” Victor said softly. “It’s part of who you are.” They stood like that for a moment, Yuri quietly enfolded in Victor’s comforting arms, before Victor kissed his temple. “I don’t like how you are so troubled by those thoughts... but I like that I’m able to distract you.”

Yuri smiled into Victor’s shoulder. “By coating me in flour,” he said. 

Victor’s laugh rumbled through his chest, just under Yuri’s ear. “Luckily, a shower will take care of that,” he said. “I wish the same could be said for the rest of the kitchen!” 

“I can help you clean up,” Yuri offered. 

Victor put his hands on his shoulders and stepped back to look him in the eye. “Go get cleaned up,” he said gently. “I’ll heat up something to eat for dinner. And after that, if you don’t just want to sleep we’ll talk about cleaning up the kitchen. All right?” When Yuri nodded reluctantly, he rubbed his cheek, just under the eye, with his thumb. “Sorry,” he said. “You had a smudge, just there.”

That coaxed another smile out of Yuri, who stepped back in, wrapping his arms around Victor’s chest again. And Victor, with a little, happily indulgent sigh, willingly held him again, his tender care all Yuri needed to drive his insidious, skittering thoughts away.


End file.
